This is a virtual cafe where all ideas are entertained all facts discerned, all topics discussed. And just because the proprietor has a passion for Christ, books, and the Acoustic guitar, that doesn't mean you can't veer wildly off into different subjects. So, come in, have a coffee (imported especially from Verble's finca in El Salvador), and talk about whatever you want.
Friday, September 14, 2018
Poem of the Day: Untitled September 14th
How are you with your back to the ground?
Pinned down by fire on all sides?
You dare not lift your head above the sight line.
Some people feel the same every time they open their eyes;
did you know that?
It seems such a harsh comparison: to compare waking
in your own bed, your head on your own pillow,
to being hunkered down in a foxhole with the night sky peppered
with explosions from shells so close that your eardrums burst.
some people awake like that.
can the quiet of the morning be, for some,
much like the encroaching fear of having your
flayed off your skeleton and your bones shattered to dust?
seems such a sad thing,
here we are:
our eyes open, and the neighbors’ dogs barking somewhere
the distance of the neighbors’ yard.
now it is time to lift our shoulders,
that sight line,
face the fires and the explosions of this tragic little war